


A Timely Rescue

by Tahlruil



Series: We Can Save Each Other [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cullen-Centric, First Date, First Kiss, First Meetings, Homophobia, How Do I Tag, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Recovering Alcoholic Cullen Rutherford, Tumblr Prompt, dorian to the rescue, it got away from me, seriously it got away from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9865043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: Seeing old high school friends for the first time in years can be awkward... when they weren't even yourfriendsit's even worse. Cullen never meant to see them again, really he hadn't - he didn't need to be reminded of the old him or the old days. He's far too busy trying to stay sober, with his friends Varric and Cassandra to help him keep to the path. Unfortunately, events - and social media - conspire against him, and he finds himself in the last place he wants to be with the last people he ever wanted to see.Enter one Dorian Pavus, hero and savior... who might end up needing a little saving himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw this prompt on Tumblr while I was looking for inspiration for Dorianmance Week. Do I know it's supposed to be for Inquisitor/Dorian? Yes. Do I care? No, because I love these two adorable messes when they're together, and I'd rather write them. <3
> 
> Prompt posted by stregatadallostregatto on Tumblr:
>
>> Person A meets a group of “friends” from their high school time. They start to ask how is A’s life now, if they are dating someone, giggling that they all still remember how dorky A was. A is very embarassed, because they are not dating anyone and their life is quite “normal”, but suddenly someone hugs them saying “I’m sorry I’m late, love.”.
>> 
>> And looking up, A sees this charming/beautiful stranger, who smiles warmly and continues to talk as if they are in a relationship.
>> 
>> A wins. B escortes them far away from the group with an excuse and blushing starts to apologize and explain that they just wanted to help.
>> 
>> How this ends, it’s up to you.
> 
> I'm hoping to get the second chapter up tomorrow! Wish me luck in that endeavor. XD
> 
> Please, please comment if you like it, or if you have some constructive criticism? Both absolutely make my day. <3 Thanks for reading!

If he lived to be a hundred, Cullen would never understand what had possessed him when he agreed to this madness. He hadn’t even been _friends_ with Samson, Alrik and their crowd in high school. Sure in junior and senior year he’d managed to get on the football team so they’d at least stopped tormenting him, but they hadn’t hung out outside of practice or become best buds or anything of the sort. Really, he hadn’t even _liked_ any of them – they were bullies who enjoyed ganging up on those who couldn’t fight back, with no appreciation for anyone who thought differently than they did. Meeting up with them now, fifteen years out of school, felt like a terrible mistake.

He blamed Cassandra and social media for the entire fiasco.

To make matters even worse, they’d insisted on meeting up at a bar; Cullen had pushed for his favorite little coffee shop, but he’d been completely outnumbered. He never should have come in – he could have just turned around and walked away, but no. No, his cursed belief in being polite meant he couldn’t just stand them up. Besides, if Cassie found out she’d give him hell over it, and this just wasn’t worth that. They’d already been sitting at one of the tables when he’d gotten there, so at least he’d been able to have a quiet word with the bartender to find out what non-alcoholic beverages they had on offer. He was distinctly uncomfortable – this whole place was a nightmare and a trigger, and he’d rather be anywhere else – but he could get through this… or so he told himself. He could and he would, and this would turn into just another embarrassing story for Cassie and Varric to tease him over.

Half an hour in, he had a vicious headache and a craving for beer that was growing every second. He knew he couldn’t give in to that sneaky, sinister internal voice that insisted he could _have just one, it wouldn’t hurt anything_ because that voice led only to ruin. Fuck, he shouldn’t have come – he shouldn’t have given in to Cassandra calling him a chicken, not when she’d have been the first to tell him not to go if he’d just told her where they were meeting. He shouldn’t have let his wounded pride agree that yes, they’d been ‘good friends and a lovely bunch of chaps’ just because she’d poked a sore spot without knowing it. No, he hadn’t been popular and cool despite being athletic, and he really hadn’t needed to be reminded of that. The group he was with had never forgotten, and the ribbing had become a little less than good-natured pretty quickly.

“And do you remember those _glasses_?” Samson was asking Varnell, the both of them deep in their cups and giggling like schoolgirls. “It was a bloody miracle he could play at all! With that… that…”

“That STRAP!” Alrik roared as a way to join the conversation, laughing along with the rest of them now. Cullen could feel eyes on them, and he shrank into himself in an effort to hide, willing this night to _end_ so he could go home, burn his clothes to get rid of the beer smell, then never think about this night or high school ever again. “Fuck me, that… that _strap_. Funniest thing I ever saw Rutherford, you trying to get yer helmet on over yer thick black glasses and that thick black strap. Ahhh… those were the days, ‘m I right?” They all lifted their glass for a toast; Cullen did not do the same. It was a good decision, because when they slammed their cups together, beer went everywhere – he definitely would have ended up with some in his cup, and then it would all be over. Everything he’d worked so hard for in the last ten years would go down the drain, because that little taste wouldn’t have been near enough.

Maker’s breath, the smell of the stuff was caught in his nostrils, and it was taking everything he had not to go back up to the bar and get one of his own. Even better, he could snatch one from one of the idiots he’d forced himself to spend time with. He was still pretty fit, but they mostly looked as though they’d let themselves go to pasture. They’d roar with laughter and approval if he just reached out and stole a cup; they’d think it was hilarious, and a move away from his dorky past self. He could – they didn’t know about his little problem, and no one who did would ever have to hear about this. He could do it. He could have a beer.

He pretended to chuckle along with them as they all started in on his study habits, but he was barely listening. With the last shred of his willpower and shaking fingers, he reached for the cell he kept in his pocket and began a frantic text to Varric, who’d been kind enough to be his sponsor for the past six years. It had been Varric and then Cassandra who’d really helped him pull his life back together, and he tried to picture their faces if they found out he’d taken a drink; the image let him push the ‘send’ button.

While Cullen had been distracted, they’d moved on to his love life – joy of joys.

“Never ‘ad a … a girlfriend,” Varnell pointed out, letting out an attractive belch in the middle of his sentence. “Always wondered ‘bout that. Thought you might be a queer.”

“Naw! Cullen ain’t no queer. Are ya?” That was Thrask, who’d spoken little that night; he seemed almost as uncomfortable as Cullen. There was a strange expression in his eyes now, like… like he wanted Cullen to say that he was wrong, and yes, Cullen was a ‘queer’. Cullen knew it was because being homosexual was something he struggled with himself, and hadn’t ever found the courage to talk about with his friends. The petty part of him that wanted alcohol more than he wanted fucking oxygen in that moment wanted desperately to hang Thrask out to dry. He wanted to bring up that hushed conversation they’d had one night after the game behind the bleachers, the one that had almost turned them into friends. He could have mentioned a sweet, clinging kiss that had almost been the start of _more_ , until Thrask panicked, punched him and ran away. 

He could laugh about it now, have a beer and throw Thrask to the wolves so he could escape their scrutiny himself. 

“I’m bisexual, actually,” he forced himself to answer carelessly instead, shrugging a shoulder. “Just never was interested in anyone of either sex at our school.” A lie, of course – _they_ hadn’t been interested in _him_ , but it amounted to the same thing: a lot of lonely nights with only his books for company. Briefly (almost hysterically, as a way to distract himself from the amber-gold, foaming liquid he wanted more than anything) he wondered why that had been. Sure he’d been a little dorky, had preferred quiet nights with a small crowd over large parties, but he’d been reasonably attractive and on the football team, but no one had ever bitten. He’d waited for four years for someone to want to be with him, but he’d always been alone. Was it perhaps because he’d just been too shy to ask?

Thrask had been the one to initiate their very brief encounter, after all and… well. Now that he thought about it, Meredith had been the one to ask him out. So had Solona and Garrett. Actually, he’d never been in a relationship where he’d been the one to do the asking.

That was a bit pathetic, really.

“Wait, what?” Cullen found himself asking, catching only the tail-end of Varnell’s comment. The man was sneering though, so it likely hadn’t been anything good. Thrask looked uneasy, Alrik looked bored, and Samson was frowning at Varnell in a rather disappointed manner.

“No, you twit, he wasn’t staring at our cocks back then. For the love of the Maker, he was there to play football, not ogle the rest of us. B’sides, we all slapped each other’s asses – part of the game. Not his fault if he maybe enjoyed it a bit more than you’n me. Don’t be an ass.”

Varnell only glowered, then muttered some excuse that Cullen could only half make out before shoving to his feet and stalking to the bar. The bar, now there was a good idea. If he headed that way himself, he could get a nice lager – it would be so cold and refreshing, and might actually give his throbbing head a bit of relief.

“Don’t mind him. He don’t like queers.” Alrik threw out with a shrug, like he wasn’t announcing anything important. ‘ _Oh, don’t mind my friend, he just hates you and everything you are because you occasionally sleep with people who have a dick_ ’. FUCK he needed a drink.

“You, ah, seeing anybody right now?”

“That’s a good question Thrask! Don’t see a ring on yer finger, Cullen. I got hitched about eight years ago myself,” Samson told him with a grin, holding up his left hand where the evidence glinted in the light of the bar. “She’s a good woman – name’s Calpernia, does good work with the government trying to stop the sex slave trade. Alrik’s been married and divorced… three times now, isn’t it?” The man only shrugged, his attention caught by the bachelorette party that was getting started a few tables over. “Thrask… well.” A somber mood suddenly fell, even Alrik tuning in long enough to give the red-headed man in question a fortifying slap on the shoulder.

“My wife passed,” he told Cullen quietly, holding his glass of beer in a white-knuckled grip. “It’s just me and our daughter now.”

“Ah… I’m… I’m sorry for your loss.” To show that he really meant it, and that there were no hard feelings on his end, Cullen reached out and wrapped his fingers around Thrask’s wrist and gave a soft squeeze. The grateful smile he got in return had him thinking that maybe, _maybe_ it wouldn’t be awful to keep in occasional contact with the man.

Everyone else was getting blocked.

“Right! Well! So how about you?” Samson’s forced cheer was jarring and out of place, breaking the moment and bringing Cullen back to reality. The one where he was stuck in a group of people he didn’t like in a bar, and he _needed_ a drink in a way that he hadn’t in years. Varric hadn’t yet answered him, he didn’t know how to excuse himself without being rude, and this night just kept getting worse. Oh, and he wouldn’t put it past Varnell to try to jump him later or something, so that was just an added bonus. 

“Me? I… ah…”

“Pfft. Prolly still a virgin.”

“Ha! Alrik, come off it.”

“Look at him blushin’ like that! No way he’s ever gotten a sweet bit of pussy to tide him over.” It was so hard to understand how three women had ever been fooled long enough to marry the git at all, really.

“Could have taken a bit of dick though,” Samson argued on his behalf, causing Cullen to choke on his ginger ale. 

“H-hey!”

“Look, even if he don’t got the glasses anymore, he’s still all…” Alrik made a vague and rather insulting gesture at him, rolling his eyes at the same time. “He was always a shy, timid little thing. Doesn’t look like that changed at all. Ain’t even _drinking_ for fuck’s sake. No, he’s a virgin for sure. Prolly never had a girlfriend or a boyfriend. Don’t know how he can be sure he likes either, really.”

“I am not a virgin!”

“Whatever you say, Cully-wully.”

“I’m _not_. And if I don’t want to drink-” Except he did, he wanted it so much, too much, but these assholes didn’t need to know that. “Why are we even having this conversation?”

“Easy, easy! I just want to know if you’ve got someone Cullen.” Samson told him, grinning. “Looks like you don’t though. Sorry about that. Should we find you someone here? Uh, I’d prefer it if it were a woman, you understand. Not that I got any problem with you, you know, seeing men. Just wouldn’t know how to help you get one.”

“I don’t need help ‘getting one’, thanks all the same.”

“Oh, so you got one?”

“That’s-”

“Fuck no he doesn’t. Look at him, all sad and slumped over. Sorry sod’s been alone his whole life and will be until the day he keels over.” Cullen felt himself going red, but this time it was with rage and not embarrassment. His fingers tightened around his glass, and he furiously began to mentally list all the reasons it would be a _terrible_ idea to start a bar fight. Just as he was starting to think that maybe he didn’t really need a job and getting arrested might be worth it to see the look on all of their faces, he felt hands lay on his shoulders, then slide down his chest in a rather suggestive way. He started slightly, only to hear a soft chuckle at his ear when whoever it was – a man though, definitely a man – settled their chin on his shoulder.

“Sorry love, didn’t mean to startle you,” a warm baritone voice breathed, the tickle of facial hair joining the air moving over his ear. “I thought you knew I’d arrived. Sorry to be so late – I should have come right over instead of having a chat with the bartender.” Cullen hadn’t the slightest idea who was speaking to him, who the hands running possessively over his chest belonged to, but right at that moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when Alrik, Samson and Thrask looked absolutely thunderstruck, staring at the new arrival in shock. This probably wouldn’t lead to anything good, but that petty part of him demanded he play the game and show his old ‘friends’ that he was perfectly capable of landing a partner.

“It’s alright,” he answered, happily surprised that his voice came out even and full of pleasure. To add a layer to the deception, he reached up and took one of those hands – they were nice, he noticed absently, large and with only light callouses, a heavy gold ring on the right pinky – and brought it to his mouth. He laid a tender kiss to each knuckle, very aware of the sharp intake of breath his _new_ friend made while the others gawked at him. Absently, he thought the man’s darker skin tone against his own pasty white complexion made for an interesting contrast. Thinking he might as well go for broke, he turned the man’s hand over and pressed a kiss to his palm as well; as he pulled away, he flicked his tongue against the man’s skin, making sure the gesture could be seen by everyone at the table. “I know how you get. These are the… friends I was telling you about, from high school.”

“It’s a pleasure. I’m Dorian Pavus – the boyfriend. I don’t suppose he’s mentioned me… gets a bit shy, don’t you Cullen darling?” The man knew his name, but that was nowhere near as important as the fingers trailing over his jaw and the kiss the man pressed to his cheek. “I’m afraid I’m terrible with names… one of you is Samson though, yes?”

“Ah… yes. That’d be, ah… me. Oh! Please uh… sit down. Cullen didn’t say you were coming. You’re more than welcome, of course!” Samson hastened to add, though he looked a bit strained around the eyes. Alrik looked a little more openly displeased, though Cullen suspected that had to do more with Varnell, who likely wouldn’t rejoin the table while two ‘queers’ were sitting there. Thrask looked confused, but at least he was managing a somewhat normal smile. “This is, ah, Thrask and Alrik. Varnell’s up at the bar – caught sight of a skirt he’d like to chase, I imagine.”

“I’m sure.” From the icy tone in his voice, this Dorian fellow knew _exactly_ why Varnell wouldn’t be joining them. Was he a mind reader? Either way, Cullen thought he should propose, or at least buy the man a drink. Though it didn’t seem necessary, because while Dorian slid into the chair at his side, he was reaching for Cullen’s soda; the first glimpse he got of his ‘boyfriend’ showed off the graceful limbs and elegant lines the man possessed. He was _beautiful_ , with the kind of looks Cullen dreamed about but always thought belonged to people far out of his league. With high cheekbones accented by a mole under his right eye and a perfectly maintained mustache (that was, yes, just a bit silly) and soul patch, he was an absolute vision to Cullen’s way of thinking. He wanted to run his fingers through Dorian’s thick black hair and explore the angles of his face. Though it was a bit shameful of him, he also found himself wanting to make a mess of the eyeliner the man was clearly sporting.

Really, Dorian looked like he’d meant to go out clubbing and had gotten lost on the way there; no wonder the other three at his table had stared. Maker’s balls, he was staring and he was supposed to be dating the man! It was just so hard not to, with the man in skin-tight black leather pants and a black striped tank top where every other stripe was done in _sheer fabric_ that showed off tantalizing glimpses of muscle and the hint of a tattoo over Dorian’s left pec. 

Cullen didn’t see himself as a shallow person, and he usually liked to get to know someone before thinking about them in a physical sense, but… _fuck_. Maker help him, he wanted to get this man naked and in his bed almost as much as he wanted a beer.

Watching as Dorian took a swig of his drink, he couldn’t help but swallow hard, licking his own lips in response. Seeing that, the man gave him a look that was downright wicked, then ran his tongue over the rim of the glass. Dimly, he heard Thrask clear his throat uncomfortably, while Samson laughed uneasily and suggested they tone it down a bit. Alrik just left, which turned Dorian into a fucking hero in his book.

When he set the glass back down, Dorian leaned into Cullen’s space; it was easier than it should have been to throw an arm around his shoulders and bring him in close. Feeling bold, he turned his head and pressed a light kiss to the man’s temple; he felt more than heard a hum of approval before Dorian leaned against him even further, his hand dropping to Cullen’s thigh. “You remembered not to get beer… thank you darling. You’re so considerate,” he practically cooed, shooting Cullen a love-sick look that had his chest swelling with pride even if this wasn’t real.

He had to remember this wasn’t real.

“Oh! Do you… not drink?” Thrask asked, clearly striving to get a conversation going.

“No,” was the short answer, no elaboration or explanation offered. Cullen wanted to kiss him for that, and for just existing really. “And he couldn’t have told you I was coming – he didn’t know himself. I was supposed to go out with friends of my own, but they canceled. I knew he was… excited… to see you all again, so I decided to surprise him and come meet you all for myself.” Dorian was an expert at hiding shades of meaning in seemingly pleasant words. Without being at all impolite, he managed to convey that Cullen had been anything _but_ excited to meet him, and Dorian was absolutely here in the role of backup.

“Oh. I thought… he was fiddling with his cell earlier. Thought maybe he’d texted you.”

“He did – I’d let him know I was headed home, and he asked me to pick up some chocolate fudge ice cream on my way. I had a better idea.” Without missing a beat, he turned slightly and leaned _down_ – because he was apparently a little taller than Cullen, something he found he liked – and brushed a soft kiss over his lips. It was far too brief for him to do anything but gather swift impressions; that tickle of facial hair, soft, warm lips, a slight taste of ginger ale shared between them. When it was over, everything in him cried out to lean up and catch his mouth again to get a better taste, but no. Dorian was helping him and he didn’t have to be doing this. Cullen would not repay him by mauling him in public without so much as a ‘by your leave’.

“A much better idea.” He agreed quietly, giving Dorian a private smile that was returned immediately. After only a beat of thought, he dropped his arm to the other man’s waist, then leaned his head on Dorian’s shoulder, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “My head is killing me,” he found himself admitting without meaning to. Embarrassed, he turned his head to hide his face in the crook of the man’s neck.

“Poor love,” Dorian murmured, one arm supporting Cullen while his other hand delved into his hair and began to deliver the most wonderful massage that had ever been. It was enough to take the edge off his pain almost immediately, and he went boneless against Dorian, giving a pleased murmur as he did. “It’s been a rough week at work,” the man told the other two at the table, again proving his psychic abilities. “I told him he should wait and meet you all when things have calmed down a little, but he insisted.”

“Didn’t want to be rude,” Cullen told him, sounding petulant to his own ears. Maker’s breath, this wasn’t real! It shouldn’t be this easy to pretend!

“You could stand to be a bit rude every once in a while. On that note, gentleman, I believe I’ll be stealing him away. I’m sure he’s had an immense amount of fun catching up with you,” again with the thick layers of sarcasm – the man was a walking, talking miracle. “But it’s time for us to leave.”

Both Thrask and Samson sent up a token protest, but they all knew Cullen’s part in the night was over. He sent them a wry smile and shrugged his shoulders as he allowed Dorian to get him to his feet; without thinking about it, he twined his fingers with the other man’s and squeezed. Dorian returned that bit of pressure and sent him a smile that had Cullen’s heart picking up speed and his stomach doing happy little flips. “It was nice to see you all again,” he lied, sparing a glance and a last weak smile to both men. Thrask looked disappointed, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the red-head had thought this would be the start of something… but he’d had his chance fifteen years ago, and the fact that he was still hanging out with the likes of Varnell and Alrik spoke volumes about his character. “We’ll, ah… have to do it again sometime. Have a nice night.”

Dorian didn’t even let them say goodbye before he was tugging Cullen away, and he couldn’t help but chuckle when he did. The man was absolute perfection, and it was such a shame that this wasn’t real. He would love to take him home and cuddle on the couch – he could start that scalp massage again, and Cullen could tell Dorian how close he’d been to taking _just one drink_ before he’d been rescued by a mysterious, sexy stranger. They could laugh about it all, and then they could talk a bit about Dorian, because Cullen was absolutely fascinated. Maker’s breath, he wanted this to be real.

Dorian was kind enough not to let go of Cullen’s hand before they were out of the bar. Even once they were out of it, he didn’t yank away or say goodbye… or anything, actually. They walked hand in hand down the street, the air cool and crisp enough that he could finally _breathe_ and _think_ and be glad he hadn’t given in to temptation. He should say something, thank the man at his side; all he managed was another squeeze of Dorian’s fingers.

“I’m sorry, if I made you uncomfortable.” Dorian said softly, eyes on the ground as they walked on. “I heard this complete ass bitching about this ‘queer’ at his table, and then when I, er, happened by-”

“You were spying,” Cullen accused playfully, lips twitching up in a warm smile. At least now he knew how Dorian had come to possess so much information before starting the ruse. “You came by the table deliberately.”

“I was worried his friends were like him, and that you might need help. I heard… well. I heard quite a bit. Seemed you were in need of a rescue. I shouldn’t have presumed, but… well. They were being awful, and it wasn’t right. I could have helped in another way, but I confess I wanted to see them squirm.”

“No. It was… thank you. I haven’t seen them in ages – we weren’t even friends. It was such a stupid idea for me to meet them. You did save me, and you even got me out of there hours before I’d have managed to leave on my own.” Dorian’s shoulders relaxed, and Cullen suddenly realized that the other man had been nervous.

“Good. I was afraid you’d be angry with me. I’m sure you have someone, and you could have just told them that, but-”

“NO!” It was practically a shout, and Cullen felt himself start to blush furiously, yanking his eyes away from Dorian and looking resolutely ahead. “There, ah. Isn’t anyone. I’m not… I don’t usually… most people don’t seem interested.”

“Most people are dolts.” It was stupid to hope that meant what he thought it meant, but… Dorian hadn’t let go of his hand. They were still walking together, and Dorian hadn’t let him go. So maybe this had a chance – maybe it could still be real. Sure, it wouldn’t happen as fast as Cullen would like, and they wouldn’t go home with each other or spend lazy hours cuddled up talking, but… well. The night _was_ young, and his headache was turning into a memory.

The night was also cold if Dorian’s shivers were anything to go by, and Cullen called himself all kinds of stupid as he reached up with his free hand to unzip his hoodie. He had to let go of Dorian’s hand to shrug it off, but the loss of contact was well worth the surprised pleasure on the man’s face when he draped the article of clothing over Dorian’s shoulders. “You looked cold.” Stupid. Maker’s mercy, he was so stupid, and his mouth was stupid, and why anyone ever spent any time in his company was beyond him.

Thankfully, Dorian seemed charmed as he slid his arms into the sleeves of the hoodie, smiling bashfully; Cullen thought he could even make out a hint of a blush on the man’s cheeks. He could do this – he could ask Dorian out for coffee. His favorite place was still open for hours yet, and it was well within walking distance. He could just open his stupid mouth and ask Dorian out – he could.

As he was gathering his courage, however, his phone began to buzz insistently against his thigh. He’d have ignored it, but he remembered the text he’d sent to Varric. If that was him on the line and Cullen didn’t answer, Varric would find a way to track him down – he was friends with all kinds, and always knew _everything_. “Ah… hold on. Don’t go, please, I… I just have to…” He fumbled his words as much as he did his phone, until he finally managed to snap it open and bring it to his ear, holding up one finger in a plea to Dorian who, miracle of miracles, still looked charmed and not irritated.

“Curly! You okay kid?”

“Hi Varric. I’m fine. I’m… I left the bar.” He heard the sigh of relief his friend gave, and saw a bit of curiosity on Dorian’s face. Cullen didn’t know if he wanted the other man to be too polite to ask or not.

“Good, good. I was worried. You didn’t…?” Shit, there’d be no hiding this. Not that he _wanted_ to, exactly. It was just a lot in a new relationship, and even if he didn’t have one of those with Dorian yet, he wanted to. But what could Dorian possibly want with an alcoholic.

“No, I didn’t have anything to drink. It was… it came close, but, uh. Something happened that, uh. Made things… better.” He met Dorian’s grey eyes as he spoke, and found himself wanting to trace his fingers over the little lines that appeared at the corners of them when the man smiled.

“You should have told me where you were going. Or Cassandra.” Varric grumped, and not unreasonable. “We would have talked you out of it, or… I don’t know. She could have gone with you.”

“It’s fine, Varric. I didn’t have a drink, and now I’m not there anymore.”

“Still craving?”

“A little,” he admitted in a hoarse whisper, because he’d learned a long time ago that it was better to be honest about this sort of thing. Varric wouldn’t be mad, and it wouldn’t turn into a deep, dark secret that would help drive him back to the bottle.

“Come to a meeting tomorrow? There’s one I always attend in the afternoon, and then I promised a new kid I’d go with him to a different one tomorrow night in a show of support. Pick one and show up, for my peace of mind if nothing else, will you Curly?”

“I… yeah. Let me look at my schedule, but I’ll be at one or the other. I remember going to the one in the afternoon – text me the time and address of the one tomorrow night?”

“Will do. This ‘something’ that happened… what was it?” Cullen’s eyes were still fixed on Dorian, who _hadn’t left him_ , and at Varric’s question he couldn’t help but break into a broad grin.

“I got rescued. Can’t really talk about it now though.”

“Oh? And why is that Curly?” Varric sounded incredibly amused, damn him, but Cullen wasn’t about to let that sink his rising courage.

“Because I’m sort of hoping to ask him on a date. Can’t do that if I’m on the phone with you.” The way Dorian’s eyes went wide didn’t seem like a good sign, and for a moment Cullen cursed his sudden break from shyness. Why had he thought this could be real? Before he could beat himself up too badly, however, Dorian smiled at him again – the sweet, bashful smile that seemed private and personal and just for him – and reached out to take his hand.

“Say no more,” Varric said in his ear as Cullen let his fingers tangle with Dorian’s once more. It was a gesture that already felt too familiar, too good; he was going to fuck this up. “Go have fun, Curly. And don’t do that thing you do.”

“What thing I do?” he demanded indignantly, squeezing Dorian’s finger when the man started to laugh.

“You know, the thing. Where something good happens and then you twist it all around in your head. Let yourself have something good that isn’t me or Cassandra. I’m your sponsor, kid, so you just nod and say ‘yes Varric’ like a good boy and go have fun on your date.”

“Yes Varric,” he parroted, though it was with a roll of his eyes instead of a nod. “Thanks for calling me, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. Night Curly.”

After he hung up, Cullen slid the phone in his pocket and turned his eyes to their joined hands. “So, you, um. You heard.”

“I did.” Dorian wasn’t going to make this easy, but he could do this. Teenagers managed to ask out people they were interested in, and he could do the same dammit. As he looked for the right words, he ran his thumb over Dorian’s knuckles in a light caress, then noticed he was still shivering.

“You’re supposed to zip these up,” he chided gently, letting go of Dorian’s hand to do just that. For good measure, after Dorian was zipped, he reached back and tugged the hood up, covering the man’s ears as well. “Better?”

“Much, actually. I look fashionable, but honestly I’ve been freezing all night. Won’t you be cold though?”

“I’ll manage. At least I have sleeves.” They were smiling at each other again, and Cullen knew he had to do this now or he’d lose his nerve entirely. “Look, I… would you… I’m no good at this. But, ah…” Holding hands was easier than speaking, so he again linked their fingers before shrugging uncomfortably. “There’s a coffee shop about two blocks away – much better atmosphere than a bar.”

“Really? I’ve never been – I’m pretty new to the area, actually. I do love coffee – is theirs any good?”

“Best around, in my opinion. Have decent pastries too. Even their tea is bearable.”

“Hmm… I absolutely must visit it then. Would you be willing to give me the address?”

“You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes. I insist.” Dorian stepped a little closer, glancing down at him with a warm smile. When he next spoke, his voice was softer, sweeter, with just a hint of nervousness in his tone. “Please, Cullen. Ask me.” 

“I’m a shit boyfriend,” Cullen blurted out, completely caught in Dorian’s eyes. “Haven’t even taken you out on a single date. Not very boyfriend-ly of me. Can we… fix that? I mean… will you, ah. If you have the time, would you… I could buy you a coffee. Not as a thank you, though I do thank you, but as…” He was hopeless, and he was going to fuck this up so badly, but he _had_ to get the words out. “Would you like to go out for coffee with me Dorian? On a date?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d like more, Cullen.”

Oh yeah, he was going to fuck this up, Cullen knew that. But as they started off toward the coffee shop hand in hand, he was incredibly glad that he hadn’t fucked it up yet.

For a little while, this would be real.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap. This chapter got away from me soooo hard. I got called into work yesterday, so I didn't have time to write anything, so I had wanted this to be a longer chapter to make up for it, but then it just... kept going. XD
> 
> Comments are love! <3 Thanks for reading!

Cullen had found The Herald’s Rest on one of his worst nights, when coming down from the alcohol had hit him hard. Despite the way he’d trembled and ranted at the staff, how he’d thrown up three times in an hour and the way he’d slipped into a hallucination that lasted almost forty-five minutes, the owner hadn’t tossed him out or called the police. Instead she’d tucked him into a corner booth and provided him decaf tea that eased his stomach and, once he finally allowed it, called Varric to come get him and take him to the hospital. When he came in a few weeks later to make reparations – he was vaguely certain he’d smashed a couple of things – he’d found out her name was Ellana, she had a habit of collecting strays, and she was terrible at accepting apologies but absolutely wonderful at listening without judgment.

The cozy little coffee shop had become his favorite place of refuge, and it was one he usually didn’t share lightly. Varric had known about it right away, of course, but it wasn’t until almost half a year of friendship with Cassandra that he brought the woman along with him one Saturday afternoon. Solona had charmed her way in after a mere two months, something he’d always regretted because now he ‘ran into her’ every once in a while, and he’d never gotten around to sharing it with Garrett. 

He was more thankful than he could say that he hadn’t known about the place when Meredith was part of his life. They’d fed off the worst in each other, and their relationship had been a toxic addiction all its own.

When he did break down and bring people with him, the experience came with a special kind of anxiety. As Dorian looked around the place to take it in, expression one of mild curiosity, Cullen was holding his breath and watching him closely. The need for his companion to understand how wonderful this little café was crawled over his skin and twisted his stomach. When Dorian didn’t immediately declare it the loveliest little shop in all existence, he forced a plastic smile on his face, feeling a bit light-headed. Had this been a mistake? Should he have taken Dorian somewhere else? Or was him hating this place a sign, a warning that they could never, ever work and he shouldn’t have asked the man out at all? Fuck, he shouldn’t have done this. He shouldn’t have shared this place so carelessly.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and suggest they go somewhere else, Dorian let go of his fingers and took his arm instead. Cullen was surprised by the man’s mouth at his ear, a gesture that made their conversation more intimate than strictly necessary. “ _Breathe_ , will you?” he murmured, amusement in his voice. His tone remained warm enough that it invited Cullen to share in his laughter rather than being the object of ridicule, and he felt a bit of tension leak away from his frame. “If you keel over I won’t get to try their coffee, and it smells divine.” Cullen felt a ‘woosh’ of air leave him in abject relief – maybe Dorian wasn’t regretting this. Maybe he even hadn’t decided he hated this place that meant so much to Cullen. Everything was still alright.

“Sorry. I… it’s been a while. I’ve never been… it’s always so awkward at first, and I’m not good at… ah. You know. Talking. To new people, even when I, you know, want to.” Maker strike him down, but he was a bumbling fool! Why had he thought this was a good idea? When he looked over at Dorian to find a small smile on the other man’s lips, he remembered the why – Dorian was beautiful and fascinating, and he needed to stop fucking this up. “I do. Want to. With you.”

Cringing and cursing himself for a dolt at that asinine clarification, it took everything he had not to slink away in defeat.

“Cullen-” Dorian wasn’t able to finish whatever he was going to say, because it was their turn up at the counter. It wasn’t Ellana at the register, unfortunately, but Cabot – better than Cole or Sera, who were both incredibly odd in their own, special ways. The short man grunted a greeting, then rung up Cullen’s usual without hesitation before turning hard eyes to Dorian. There was a long silence as his date (his _date_ , he had a _date_ ) studied the menu, one that had Cabot starting to shift and glare a little more intensely. Cullen’s regular was his regular because the shorter man scared the piss out of him; the first time he blurted out an order quick enough to suit the barista, that became what he got.

Dorian was a man of great fortitude to withstand the throat-clearing, fidgeting, glaring man in front of him.

Or maybe he was just a little shit, because when he finally gave his order and Cabot punched it into the register angrily, Dorian’s mustache was twitching and there was a small, satisfied little smirk on his face. To hide his own answering smile, Cullen turned slightly and hid his face in the man’s shoulder. “You’re terrible,” he muttered softly, peeking up at the man with a playfully stern expression.

“I know. My mother despairs of me endlessly.”

“That’ll be seven eighty-seven.” Cabot broke in, sounding as cranky as he ever did. Cullen reached for his wallet immediately, then frowned when he saw his date doing the same thing. Yes, he’d claimed to be a shitty boyfriend, but he found himself chafing under the man’s assumption that Cullen would make him pay.

“I’ve got it,” he said as he stepped forward, catching Cabot’s eye to make sure he wouldn’t accept a single cent from his date. When he chanced a glance back at the man, Dorian looked taken aback, mouth hanging open slightly and his eyes a bit wide. “I asked you out, after all. If you…” He felt himself blushing as he shoved a ten at Cabot, indicating he could put the change in the tip jar. “If you have, you know, a decent time with me and, uh… want to. Well. If you decide to ask me to accompany you somewhere, then you can…” Cabot began to bark with laughter as he went to make their drinks, which had Cullen’s shoulders rising to his ears despite himself. “Um. Never mind?”

“No, no… don’t turn into a shrinking violet!” To Cullen’s pleased surprise, Dorian came up behind him and slid his arms around his waist, giving him a light hug. Now it was Dorian hiding in his shoulder, breath moving warm and steady over his neck; idly, he found himself wondering why it was so easy for them to touch each other. He was not, generally, the handsy sort, but… it was sort of… nice. “I’m not used to…” The man paused, then sighed and pressed even closer, shivering slightly – since he was still all wrapped up in Cullen’s hoody, he didn’t think it was from the cold. “Generally, the sort of people I’ve… gone out with insist on splitting the bill. It’s what I’m used to, that’s all. Thank you for my coffee. Next time will be my treat.”

‘ _Next time_ ’… the idea of it warmed Cullen from his toes to the tips of his ears, which he could feel turning as red as his cheeks. “Mm.” Was all the agreement he could manage, shuffling the pair of them to the left to wait for their drinks. Dorian didn’t let go of him, and he had the feeling that if he didn’t do anything about it, the man would spend a good chunk of the date clinging to him like a barnacle.

He himself was grinning like an idiot when Cabot passed two steaming cups his way.

“Do you need cream or sugar?”

“No.” Dorian murmured into his shoulder. “Sugared coffee is an abomination on the world of men, and cream is only slightly better. … of course, if you enjoy either, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

Cullen found himself laughing as he started to walk, Dorian shuffling along behind him with his arms still wrapped around him. “Of course not. I’ll just be a-”

“Tasteless, uncouth barbarian.”

“-which is actually true, for the most part. I happen to like _both_ in my coffee.”

“Heathen. I find I must reconsider this entire date.” Cullen might have freaked out over that if Dorian had loosened his hold even a little; instead his grip seemed almost to tighten.

“Since you feel that strongly, allow me to deposit you and your non-spoiled coffee at a table, and then I’ll be off to desecrate mine where you can’t see it.”

“You’ll let me pretend you’re just off speaking with the cranky man at the counter instead of ruining what smells like a perfectly good drink?”

“If that’s what you need to do, Dorian.”

“How is such a sweet man still single? It’s absolutely criminal, and the taste of this entire city is now under serious question.”

“U-uhm. Here,” Cullen told him instead of answering _that_ bit of ridiculousness. “This is where I like to sit. You can see everyone coming in.”

“People watcher, hmmm?”

“I suppose. I don’t… like to be taken by surprise, most of the time. It was fine at the bar!” he added hurriedly, seeing and feeling the way Dorian’s hands twisted in his shirt. “I didn’t mind that in the slightest. Best surprise I’ve ever had, really. I just…”

“It’s fine. I understand, I think.”

“Oh. Good. … … um, Dorian?”

“Yes?”

“The thing is that… well. I wouldn’t ask if… I don’t mind, and I actually… it’s very nice, but. You’ll have to let go to sit down. Unless you want to watch me destroy my coffee.” Dorian let out a very irritated noise at that, burying his face in the crook of Cullen’s neck. He may even have mumbled a ‘don’t wanna’, but Cullen couldn’t hear it over the racing of his heart. He was blushing again, and he knew it, but maybe that was alright. Dorian didn’t seem to mind, anyway. “I usually sit on this side. I could… well. If you sat there, when I came back I could… uhm. Well. It is very nice. The touching. So we could sit in the same side of the booth. If you wanted.” He ended lamely, ducking his head.

“A man with solutions, I see.”

“Uhhhm.”

“I like it.” The feel of Dorian’s lips brushing over the corner of his mouth – accompanied by the bristly tickle of his mustache – made him jump just a little. To make sure the man didn’t take that the wrong way, he grabbed hold of his courage and turned his head, managing a brisk kiss to Dorian’s cheek. It was only then that the man finally let him go, sliding into the booth with a show of feline grace that Cullen wouldn’t have thought possible. Everything Dorian did was full of the kind of elegance he’d always envied in other people; his muscles were all well and good, but he’d never be as lithe and supple as someone like Dorian. “May I have my coffee, or are you going to try and sneak in a bit of sugar just to tease me?”

“Oh! I wouldn’t… you’re teasing me.”

“Most definitely.”

Blushing, Cullen double-checked the coffee cups, then passed over the one that belonged to Dorian. “I’ll just be… uhm. Talking to Cabot. Be right back.” He felt the man staring at him as he turned and walked away, and _yes_ he might have straightened his back and put just a bit of a roll in his hips, but he rather thought it was justified. Until, of course, he reached the table up front that held the sugar and creamer to find Cabot leering at him – that was when he realized he might have gone just a bit overboard.

“Stuff it.” Cullen told the shorter man forcefully when he opened his mouth, shoulders rising defensively again. Cabot only laughed and lifted his hands in an entirely false gesture of submission, then began to hum a soppy love ballad. “You’re evil, and I’m telling Ellana.” He hissed before heading back to Dorian, earning a smarmy smirk that would have pissed him off if he weren’t off to join his sexy, witty date.

Except when he neared their table, Dorian was no longer a picture of smiling ease. No, he was splotchy with what Cullen recognized as poorly-contained fury, glaring down at his cell phone as if he could set it on fire with only the power of his mind. He was also clutching at the device in a white-knuckled grip, and even his mustache seemed to bristle with anger. The man was pissed, and even if Cullen knew that it probably had nothing to do with him, he felt his happy mood begin to unravel.

Dorian was muttering to himself as he glared at… whatever he was looking at on his phone, and Cullen sort of wanted to run. “Uhmm. Do you need a couple of minutes?” he ventured softly, wincing when Dorian jumped and almost knocked over his coffee. “I can… come back. Or if you want, I could-”

“Please don’t leave – I won’t have him ruining this too.” Despite the way he was snapping, there was an undercurrent of desperation in Dorian’s voice that caught Cullen’s attention completely. It put him in the mind to punch whoever was on the other end of the phone, which was a bit of an overreaction; demanding to know who it was so he could find them and hurt them was completely out of the question.

So he gave into his secondary urge instead and slid into the booth next to Dorian. After setting his coffee down, he slowly wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, giving him plenty of time to move away or tell him to stop. Since neither reaction was forthcoming, he completed the embrace with a sense of satisfaction, happy to be in Dorian’s space and touching him again. Because he would be worried that someone getting so close would be peeking at things they had no right to be peeking at, he made sure to turn his head and bury his face in the man’s neck, keeping his breathing slow and even, trying to exude calm.

It was something he was shit at normally, so he was surprised when Dorian did actually relax. He slid an arm around Cullen’s shoulders and then that hand delved into his curly locks – the sound he let out when clever fingers started up a scalp massage again was completely indecent. Since he was certain he was a nice shade of cherry red, Cullen was glad his face was hidden from view and that most of Dorian’s focus still seemed to be on his cell phone.

“Sorry – it’s my father. We… don’t always get along very well.” The tightness in the other man’s voice suggested that there was a great deal more to the story. “He’s demanding I return home at once to carry on the family business and the family line. Fucking prick.”

The Rutherford’s had been a family filled with love and acceptance: his parents were hard-working, decent folk who didn’t really ‘get’ his lifestyle, but they tried so hard for him. His brother and sister were both amazing and fully supportive in their own meddling, overbearing ways. It was one of the things that had always shamed him most, whenever he’d started to drag himself out of the bottle – he wasn’t a hard luck story. There was no secret tragedy, no overbearing darkness in his past. He was just an alcoholic who’d almost ruined his relationship with everyone who’d ever cared about him before he finally dragged himself (sometimes kicking and screaming) onto the straight and narrow.

So the idea of having a father who he didn’t get on with and who wouldn’t support his choices was completely foreign. For once, that felt like a disadvantage, because he had no idea what to say that might make things better. ‘Sorry’ just didn’t feel right, and his mouth didn’t seem able to form any other words. Thankfully, Dorian seemed quite happy to continue his quiet rant.

“Why he thinks I’ll have anything to do with him ever again… why the fuck does he think I moved all the way out here? It certainly wasn’t for the air of refinement. Since I won’t go home – I’ll never go crawling back there, not ever – he’s on about me attending some stupid function he’s setting up with business associates in the area. I have to go represent the Pavus name, and – this is the best part, really – he’s found me a date already so I won’t have to go to the trouble. _She_ is from a lovely family full of good breeding stock. _She_ is perfectly lovely and schooled in all the finer ways of manners. _She_ is probably so dull I’ll want to kill myself inside ten minutes of her company, but we’d make _lovely_ children together and that’s really all that matters. That _fucking bastard_.”

Dorian was absolutely seething, and though Cullen wasn’t looking, he could feel that the man was typing out a response, and he could just imagine what it might entail. He hesitated only a moment, then reached out and gently plucked the phone from his fingers, setting it aside. “Drink your coffee.” Well, that had come out like an order, which hadn’t really been what he’d intended at all. “I mean... that is to say… well. Best revenge is to live well, isn’t that what they say? So let’s finish our date – he can wait until we’re done for you to respond. Can’t he?”

When he pulled back enough to look up at Dorian, the man was staring down at him with wide eyes, and then the man broke into a warm smile. “You are absolutely correct, Cullen. He… can wait. I don’t want to spend our whole date upset with him, and that’s all that will happen if I respond. I apologize for letting him ruin what time he did.”

“Nothing was ruined,” Cullen answered with a shrug, dropping his head back down to Dorian’s shoulder. “And if you’d like, when you answer him you can say you already have a date. Though I couldn’t promise not to punch him if we met. I have… a temper. Sometimes.”

“If you punch him, I will propose to you on the spot.”

“Make sure you bring a ring then – we can make it a show.” The way Dorian burst into ringing laughter had that warm, satisfied feeling swelling in his chest again. Maybe… maybe it would take longer than he’d thought to fuck this up. The rest of the date might go just fine, and maybe he really would be Dorian’s date for… whatever function his father wanted him to attend. Maybe this would be real for a good long while before he fucked it up. Maybe Dorian would keep not leaving.

All Cullen knew as Dorian finally grabbed his coffee (and he maybe preened a bit when it was declared divine) was that despite everything, this was easily the best date he’d ever been on.

~.~.~

“And you let this strange man keep your hoody?”

“He’s not – uh! – a strange man, Cassie.”

“Keep your guard up, would you? The exercise is pointless if you do not play your role.” Normally Cullen was a fan of Cassandra’s accent, but when she was even a little irritated, she came off sounding clipped and terse. She was right though – he wasn’t guarding for shit, too busy going over his date with Dorian with her. Since she’d originally started going to boxing classes with him in an effort to get him a ‘healthy, productive’ hobby, he figured he’d better start pulling his wait. “You met the man – this… Dorian – that night, correct? So you do not know him. That makes him strange. Hah! Better. Some day you may be able to land a proper blow.”

“Thanks.” She ignored his sarcasm and threw a punch of her own; this time he blocked it the way he was meant to, saving his solar plexus from another punishing blow. “And he isn’t. I like him.”

“So it would seem.”

“We’re going to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Wonderful. Keep your gloves _up_ Cullen! Ugh.” Suddenly she stepped away from him, throwing her own gloves up in frustration. “I can see you are more interested in talking. Why you did not just _tell_ me this… We’ll call this a water break. Come on.”

He felt a little badly as he followed her out of the ring to sit on the sidelines. This was their bi-weekly time together, where they spent an hour or two working out before they went out for a bite to eat. He hadn’t meant to ruin the physical aspect, not when both of them depended on it as an outlet. On the other hand… he was really, really excited about how things had gone with Dorian.

“Go over that last part again,” Cassandra commanded, popping open her water bottle and taking a deep swig. “I was paying more attention to your terrible footwork.”

“You’re so good for my self-esteem.”

“Cullen. Talk.”

“I’m talking, I promise.” After pausing to take a drink of his own, he continued. Even if he knew he looked foolish, he couldn’t help the grin on his face. “We were at Herald’s Rest for almost two and a half hours, Cassie. It was… it was wonderful. I haven’t ever had a date that felt so… so easy.”

“I know ours was a disaster. Blind dates are terrible things.”

“Since it led to a great friendship, I’m willing to forgive Varric for the joke. He was just trying to pull me out of my rut.”

“I suppose.”

“Anyway, this date wasn’t anything like that. We talked about art and music, and we even managed to touch on politics and religion without it going completely south. I mean, we didn’t agree about much, but we didn’t fight about it either. The way he sees things is… it’s different than what I’m used to. Listening to him was just… he’s _fascinating_ , Cassie. I’ve never met anyone like him. And I’m not big on touching, but-” he stopped himself, her snort of disagreement registering and making him frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You enjoy touch as much as the rest of us, you oaf. You simply don’t allow yourself to indulge in it very often. Varric has told me before that he thinks you’re touch-starved-”

“So he’s mentioned.”

“-and sometimes I agree. This… Dorian person surprised you enough that you forgot to remind yourself that you aren’t allowed to enjoy being touched.”

“That… that is…” She had a bit of a point, Cullen could admit that privately at least. When people he was comfortable with offered touch, he tended to sink happily into whatever they offered. At several points during their date, he’d felt content enough to purr – Dorian and he were constantly connected, and the other man tended to stroke his arm and leg, and had also massaged the back of his neck in addition to his scalp. The man had magic hands, and Cullen was eager to explore how far that went. And while, yes, he’d initiated his fair share of touches, Dorian had reached for him just as often, and seemed just as surprised when he wasn’t rebuffed. “Maybe he is too,” Cullen found himself murmuring thoughtfully to himself.

“So you spent hours talking and… and _canoodling_ -”

“Keep scoffing, Cassie the Closet Romantic, and I’ll tell Varric all about your book collection.”

“Whatever. So the date ended, and then?”

“He’d left his car near-”

“Near the bar you didn’t tell anyone you were going to?”

“Ah… yes. Near, uh, that one.”

“If you ever do that again, Cullen Stanton Rutherford, I will beat you bloody in the ring.” Most people would take that as a threat, especially with the way she was glaring at him, but all Cullen heard was how much she cared.

“I know. I’m sorry, Cassie. Anyway, it had gotten even colder by the time we were walking back that way, and he still needed it more than me. You know I don’t get chilled very often.”

“Your collection of sweaters, sweatshirts, hoodies and long-sleeved t-shirts would speak to the contrary, but yes.”

“Well when we got back to his car – it’s _beautiful_ , Cassie, almost as beautiful as him – I just… I couldn’t ask for it back.”

“Yes you could have.”

“Well I didn’t… I didn’t want to. We hadn’t set anything in stone yet, and I just… Even if we didn’t see each other again, I wanted him to. To have it.”

“You are such a sap.”

“I know what you read, Cassie, and I know where your diary is. Watch your words. Anyway. He, uh, went to unzip it, and I. Ah. Said he could, you know. Have it. He lit up like it was Satinalia. Then he asked if I wanted to go to dinner with him. So we’re. You know. Going out.”

“And then?”

“What?”

“I mean what happened next? After you gave him your hoody and he asked you out. What. Happened. Next.”

“Uhm. We exchanged numbers?”

“What.” Her voice was incredibly flat, to the point that the word wasn’t even a question.

“Yeah. We, uh, did that. And then there was a last hug, and then he got in his car. I watched him go, then I got on the train to head home myself.”

“What about the kiss?!”

“Cassandra!”

“You are holding out on me, Cullen Rutherford, and I don’t appreciate it. Drop the scandalized act and tell me about the kiss!”

“We… we didn’t. I mean, there was the one in the… you know. The bar. But it wasn’t – it was nice, but not anything… uh. Should I have? Kissed him?”

“YES!” Now she was practically shrieking, bringing to mind a boiling teapot. Knowing that soon she’d start swatting, Cullen scooted down the bench a few inches, blushing brightly. “You have been gushing about the man for most of the day! How could you not have kissed him?”

“Well, I just… it was a first date. I didn’t… I wasn’t sure. He didn’t kiss me either!”

“Ugh. _Men_. Make sure you get one on the date you have… when is it?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“If we don’t count coffee, this is your first real date in… oh. Since Garrett.”

“Yeah. Since Garrett.”

“Hmm.” Suddenly she gasped, staring at him in horror; it was enough to raise his guard, and he scanned the room, looking for the threat that had drawn such a response from her. “Cullen! Do you have _anything_ to wear?”

“Well I thought I’d try clothes.”

“Cullen.”

“What?”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know?”

“Maker’s mercy, you’re hopeless. No more boxing – go take a shower in the locker room, and we can go to the mall. We’ll eat at the food court, then address this crisis.”

“It’s not a crisis-”

“Shut up and go shower.”

“Cassie.”

“Cullen.”

“… fine.”

“This is going to be such fun!”

~.~.~

At Cassandra’s insistence, Cullen had texted Dorian and found out where they were going. Though he’d been living in the area for almost twelve years, he’d never been to Le Masque du Lion, but it sounded pretty fancy. After they’d looked it up online, Cullen had nearly fallen down on the ground to kiss her feet in thanks. He had plenty of clothes, many of them pretty nice… but he had _nothing_ to eat at such an upscale restaurant. They’d ended up spending several hours trying to find the ‘perfect’ outfit… and a nice chunk of change as well.

It was worth it though, for the look of appreciation in Dorian’s eyes when Cullen answered the door.

Of course, Dorian cut quite the figure himself; while his black slacks were nowhere near as tight as his leather pants had been, they still hugged his thighs perfectly. Cullen only just managed to refrain from asking him to turn around – just to check that the tailoring was just as perfect when it came to the man’s backside. Craftsmanship was important, after all, and he wanted to make sure Dorian had gotten his money’s worth. His jacket was also black, a contrast to the deep red of Cullen’s, but his shirt was a brilliant shade of purple that Cullen was sure would look awful on anyone else. He had a pocket square with a purple and blue paisley pattern, and his black bow tie was a good way to complete the outfit… though it was a bit askew. He didn’t bother to try and talk himself out of stepping into Dorian’s space so he could straighten it; after, he couldn’t help but run his hands over the man’s shoulders.

“You look… well. Different, from the other night.” In addition to that pinky ring, Cullen noted a heavy gold watch and several golden hoops marching up his right ear. Suddenly, Dorian didn’t feel like a regular guy – Maker help him, he might have landed someone far above him in wealth and social station. “It’s good,” he added quickly, blushing as he realized how that might have sounded. “A good look, I mean. For you. With the… the tie and all.”

“Well, the place insists on them.” Dorian answered, clearly fighting a grin, eyes sparkling with amusement. “To be honest I’ll probably have it off and in my pocket before we even get our food. Don’t look at me that way – as long as you keep yours on, we’ll be perfectly respectable.” It was his turn to reach for Cullen’s tie, though he didn’t pretend to neaten the already-perfect knot. He just played with the tail of it, fingers brushing over Cullen’s chest as he did. “Yours I’ll have off during dessert.”

There was a wicked promise in his voice and eyes, which had the back of Cullen’s neck and his ears turning hot. “O-oh. Won’t they… ah. Kick us out? If they have a dress code that demands ties, I mean. And you take both of ours off. Might not go over well.”

“That’s why I’ll wait until dessert to take care of yours. We’ll get our food before they ask us to leave, never fear.”

“I’m beginning to think you might be impossible.”

“It’s my best quality,” Dorian agreed breezily, still toying with his tie. “Well, besides my astonishing good looks, of course.”

“Of course.”

“You really look wonderful. I don’t think I’ve said that yet.”

“Ah, thank you. I’m… Cassandra helped me pick everything out. I’m a bit… hopeless, when it comes to clothes.”

“Well, tell her she has excellent taste.”

“Mmm. Dorian?”

“Yes?”

“Are we going to stand in my doorway all night, or are you going to feed me?”

Cullen had already gathered that Dorian didn’t blush easily, which wasn’t quite fair in his opinion. But when he did, it only seemed to make him glow… and he resolved to try and draw it out of the man as often as he could before he fucked this up.

~.~.~

Dorian’s tie ended up in Cullen’s jacket pocket shortly after they’d gotten the wine list that Dorian had instantly turned away – he’d tucked it there after becoming afraid the man might just leave it on the table when they left. It was a nice restaurant, though nothing he’d have picked out for himself. His date seemed at his ease, cementing Cullen’s idea that he was used to the finer things in life. That wasn’t bad in and of itself, but he hoped Dorian wouldn’t mind being taken to places that were a bit less hoity-toity when it was his turn to pick.

They did indeed get asked to leave during dessert.

Cullen thought it was less because they were both without ties and more to do with the way Dorian had slipped his off as if it were a precursor to sex. Their fate was truly sealed when he’d then popped open the first three buttons of Cullen’s shirt and put the black and red striped tie around his own neck.

It looked good there, so he didn’t ask for it back even after they’d been escorted out to the valet and gotten back into Dorian’s car.

~.~.~

“You really got us kicked out.”

“Well, you seemed to doubt me. I had something to prove, you see.”

“I’m very impressed.”

“So the ‘roguish bad boy’ thing is working for me.”

“Only in the strictest sense.”

Dorian laughed at that, and Cullen liked the way it felt against his ear. They’d ended up driving out of town to an overlook where they could see the stars because neither of them had been ready to say goodnight. It had been a forty-five-minute ride, but it had been absolutely worth it because the end had found the pair of them lounging on the hood of the car, Cullen tucked against Dorian with his head on the man’s chest. It was a good way to end an evening, though the stars were far less interesting than the man he was draped over. He was enjoying himself so much, in fact, that he kept forgetting that he was going to mess this up in the end.

“That’s really not the way to get me to stop, you know,” Dorian teased, running one hand through Cullen’s hair. “If you’re not careful, I’ll get us kicked out of every establishment we visit. Then I’ll start smoking and wearing leather jackets, and I’ll pick fights to protect your honor.”

“Why don’t we leave the fighting to me? I can protect both our honors well enough.”

“Hmm. You are a bit more muscly than I am. Very well, you may handle the fighting. I’ll be in charge of getting pictures of us posted around town with the words ‘Not Welcome Here’. Can I still wear the leather jacket? I look very good in leather.”

“You are definitely impossible.”

“I think you might like it.”

“Mmm. Maybe a little. And I know you look good in leather – the pants you had on the other night should be made illegal.” More laughter, which had Cullen smiling before he turned to bury his nose in Dorian’s shirt. “They should,” he muttered playfully against his chest, breathing deep to catch the man’s scent. “They show off _everything_. Indecent exposure, that’s what the police should write on the arrest warrant.”

“But if they’re made illegal, you won’t get to see me in them anymore.”

“Well, you can wear them when we’re alone. I won’t turn you or your sinfully tight leather pants in, I promise.”

“How generous of you.” As Dorian’s arms wrapped tightly around him, Cullen snuggled closer, now nosing his tie – still being worn by his date, which had something primal and possessive inside of him grunting in pleasure.

“I’m a very generous man. I’ve already donated a hoody and now a tie to your own clothing collection.”

“True enough. You can keep my tie in return.”

“Thank you. Huh. You know, I don’t think I know how to tie a bow tie.”

“I’d teach you, but I think I’d rather be the one to tie it when you wear it.”

“Impossible and very smooth. I’m learning so much about you tonight.” A chuckle was even better than a laugh – it rumbled around in Dorian’s chest and tickled Cullen’s cheek.

“Smooth, hm? Well. We’ll see. I’m not quite so sure that’s one of my many, many, many fantastic traits.”

“Modesty is definitely in there though, so you have that going for you.”

“I begin to think that what I’ve been taking as compliments have all actually been you mocking me cruelly and undeservedly. I’m hurt, Cullen.” Before he could pretend to apologize, Dorian suddenly rolled them over – for one breathless moment, Cullen thought he was going to roll them right off the car. The man stopped them in time, however, pinning Cullen against the hood; what should have been a sexually charged situation was turned into something sweetly intimate by the warmth in Dorian’s eyes and smile. “You… are unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Cullen Rutherford.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Since I’m used to people born with a silver spoon shoved up their ass, I’d say yes. It’s a very good thing.” Dorian bent down to bring their foreheads together, and Cullen was made very aware of how long the man’s lashes were; they brushed lightly over his skin whenever he blinked. “And where I’m from… men don’t date, or touch, or admit that they might actually like those things. A tumble now and then to amuse oneself is allowed, even expected, but _wanting_ that exclusively is… well. It’s ‘not done’, is how my father always put it. He would hate you.”

“… is that why you like me?” The thought of that opened a whole in Cullen’s chest, and for the first time he realized that he wasn’t the only one who could fuck this up.

“No!” Dorian breathed immediately, sounding horrified. “I mean… many of the things I like about you he would hate, but… that isn’t…” Now his frustration was evident as he searched for words, and one of his hands came to Cullen’s face, cupping his cheek tenderly. “I ‘rescued’ you the other night because that fucker at the bar reminded me of my father, and I got angry. I went to coffee with you because you seemed sweet, and you didn’t mind when I touched you. By the void, it’s been _ages_ since I’ve had a date who would let me touch him in public. I wouldn’t have spent hours talking with you if I were only interested in how much my father would hate seeing me with you.”

“Oh.” Cullen felt his cheeks growing warmer as a fond, pleased feeling took root in the vicinity of his chest. “That’s alright then.”

“If you need me to, I will extoll the virtues I see in you every hour on the hour.” The playful earnestness in Dorian’s expression did him in, and Cullen couldn’t help but start to laugh. “I mean it, I will. I’ll text or call you when we’re not together, or I could hire sky writers, if you would prefer. Perhaps a singing telegram? Or maybe I could-” With Dorian’s face so close to his, and with him being so ridiculously adorable and perfect, Cullen just couldn’t help himself. He slid one hand into Dorian’s perfectly coiffed hair, mussing it as he cupped the back of the man’s head and drew him even closer, leaning up to close the distance between them completely.

Their first ‘real’ kiss tasted like laughter and the sweet sparkling grape juice they'd had with dinner. Dorian stopped talking immediately with a sharp intake of breath, and then he was kissing Cullen back warmly; it was unbelievable, how perfectly they fitted together. A moment later, Dorian brought his hand to the back of Cullen’s neck, where the chilly metal of his ring sent a shiver through him. Immediately the other man drew him closer, providing warmth and an anchor for Cullen to cling to. Most of the men he’d kissed in the past had been clean-shaven or had just a bit of stubble – the feel of Dorian’s full, well-groomed mustache was interesting and something he thought he could very quickly grow to like.

After long, lingering moments the kiss ended, but they stayed close enough that they were still sharing breath. Stomach fluttering and heart doing happy somersaults, Cullen nuzzled his nose against Dorian’s, smile stretching from ear to ear. This had been so much better than an awkward ‘here we are at your door’ type kiss they’d have had after their first date. This had been perfect.

Dorian seemed to agree, because after a soft, wondering chuckle, he bent and caught Cullen’s mouth again. This kiss was a bit less sweet but just as perfect, with Dorian ending it by taking his lower lip between his teeth and giving a playful tug. Afterward, he shifted so he was laying half-on, half-off of Cullen and pressed his face against Cullen’s neck. Feeling the sudden need to keep the man safe, Cullen kept left his hand cupped around the back of his head and turned his own to press a kiss to Dorian’s temple.

He wanted to tuck Dorian into his life, where the man’s awful father couldn’t get to him. He wanted more dates and more kisses; he wanted to get through a whole meal without getting tossed out. Cullen wanted Dorian there when he finally got his license back, and he wanted to bring him to a meeting so he could gain insight and understanding to Cullen’s moods. He wanted to bring him so he could find support for Cullen’s worst days, and would have someone to call when he was being an absolute ass. He wanted to know what important things Dorian would want him there for, if any.

Cullen _wanted_ this.

It felt so strange to want something so badly that wasn’t alcohol, and even now his brain was trying to convince him that he didn’t deserve this, or that the only way he could stay interesting enough to keep Dorian would be if he started to drink again. He was going to have to fight against those little voices, and learn how to keep from sabotaging his own efforts. It was a process he’d started with Solona, though he’d been too early in recovery to manage it. He’d never bothered with Garrett, and it had destroyed them before they’d started.

“I have so much I want to say,” he whispered against Dorian’s skin, voice sounding a bit choked to his own ears. “But I’m afraid of chasing you off. I’m not… I’m not an easy man to be with. I really am a shit boyfriend, and-”

“And I’ve never had what I would consider a real relationship, so I’m sure I won’t be a picnic all the time either. We’ve both managed this far though, haven’t we? So I think I’d like to try anyway. If you want to.”

“I do! If… if you want to, I mean. I… I come with baggage, so you should probably-” Dorian clapped a hand over his mouth, which was a bit rude of him. To show his feelings on the matter, Cullen licked his palm; Dorian only laughed, then moved his hand so he could lean up and give him a quick kiss.

“Everyone comes with baggage, Cullen. We just have to figure out if yours meshes well with mine. To do this, I propose that we date, since neither of us seems opposed to the notion.”

“I… that’s… that’s a reasonable idea. I… ah. I tend to be… I can be all or nothing. So if I start to come on too strong or tell you too much too soon please tell me.”

“Only if you’ll do me the same courtesy. I always… I want too much, that’s what they always said. I tried not to, but it only made me miserable. So I… want. If I crowd you, let me know.”

“I can do that,” Cullen agreed, though he couldn’t really see that happening. He loved having Dorian near, in his space. “So… we’re going to do this? Date?”

“Yes. We are now dating, so I demand we go out again soon. Possibly tomorrow.” Cullen chuckled and dropped another kiss to Dorian’s temple, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

“Can’t do tomorrow, but how about this weekend? I’ll pick the place this time, if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course. Where are you going to take me?”

“I don’t know yet. I have two days to decide; I’ll let you know once I do.”

“Fair enough. Make sure you wear enough clothing that you can give me something to add to my collection.”

“Maker’s breath, I am not going to let you steal all my clothes. I can’t go to work naked, Dorian.”

“I’m sure at least a few of your coworkers would appreciate the view.”

“My boss would most certainly not, however.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll leave you a few things.”

“Thanks so much.”

“Not a problem.”

“… hey Dorian?”

“Yes?”

“Do you need to go to that… whatever it was your father was pestering you about?”

“It… would make some things easier, though I’d really, really rather not.”

“Make sure you let him know you already have a date, so you don’t need whoever he found.” For a long time, Cullen heard only crickets and the distant sound of city life. He didn’t intrude in Dorian’s silence – he had a feeling the man was trying to process the fact that Cullen was willing to go despite how awful he was making it sound.

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“No. I’d rather be there with you in case anything happens. I don’t want you to go alone.” Dorian burrowed closer, twisting his hands in Cullen’s suit jacket; he was probably ruining its lines, but Cullen didn’t give a shit. “It’s my turn to save you, Dorian.”

“Thank you.” Came a soft whisper that he almost missed, spoken against his neck. “I… thank you.”

“I’ll try very hard not to punch your father, if he’ll be there.”

“I maintain that I will propose to you on bended knee if you actually clock the bastard.”

“We’ll have to see what happens then. At least it’ll be interesting.”

Their date should have been over an hour ago, and Cullen knew it was getting both late and cold. He had work in the morning, and he’d already had one day this week where he’d gone in dragging because he’d been reluctant to leave Dorian’s company. But for once all the sinister, destructive voices in his head were silent, and he had a beautiful, interesting man who made him laugh snuggled against him. So even if he knew that they really should get going, he was perfectly content to lie there on Dorian’s car, staring at the stars and the man in his arm in equal measure.

It had been a good night, and he never wanted it to end… at least, not before he got a few more kisses that he couldn’t wait to tell Cassandra all about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had MEANT for Cullen and Dorian to go to the event mentioned a couple times in the chapter, but they insisted on going on dates instead. Would anyone be interested in me continuing the story? It would mostly just be one-shots and shorts dropped off from time to time; I'm willing to commit to at least writing the event if people want to read it... but you gotta comment to let me know. For this fic, comments mean more stories! If I get enough, I'll keep going. 
> 
> Either way, thanks again for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/) if you'd like. Ask box is open for prompts. <3


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